Mistaken Enchantment
by Ironheart
Summary: Verberia a yound lady from a far away land suddanly appears when Tristan is out scouting, five years before movie . Beautiful, deadly and mysterious, for no one can figure out the serect she seems to be hiding, can Tristan discover her secret and heart?
1. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the characters, ideas nor places that are part of King Arthur and Lord the Rings nor any other production. They belong the appreciate writers, authors and directors of such films. All other ideas are purely fictional and of my own making. I do not and am not receiving any money for the following. It is purely for entertainment and something to fill my time.

Author's Note

To

Heaven or Hell

This is my first fanfic so be gentle I would really appreciate if people would please leave reviews that would really be helpful. This story is about the struggle between Verberia a character of my imagination and Tristan. The prologue explains to you the reason for her being in Briton and her history. The first chapter takes place five years before the knights are released from there service, year ten of fifteen. The stories then fast forwards five years were the movie picks up from after the intro to Lancelot. I do promise however to keep all characters, "in-character" which is hard in Tristan's case because he really does not talk…If you have any questions or helpful suggestions, you are welcome to email me at or on this account. Constructive criticism is welcomed and please let me know if you think I should be more direct. Enjoy …

**Background on Location **

** and **

** Time Period **

**Geography Lesson**: Hadrian's Wall was a 73 mile long wall that had been built by the first century Emperor Hadrian to keep the Woads, Pilkts, or Celts under control.Gaulia, Gaul, Treveri, Gaulish, Frank and Frankish are all of the terms given to the country or people of Ancient France. The country of Dacia is what is now north of the province of Macedonia Northern Greece now Serbia. The peoples of Sarmatia Sarmatians now Ukraine and Poland, were a nomadic peoples bordering the tribes of Germania Germany. They had four main tribes Rhoxolani, Lazyges, Alani and Aorsi. The Lazyges, which directly bordered Germania, therefore had direct contact with Rome…

**History Lesson**: Because of their fierce reputation as great horsemen, they the Lazyges and neighboring Rhoxolani fought the Romans. Sarmatia remained a threat for much of Rome's history until around 150AD; the Romans defeated the tribesmen and were able to subdue them. King Arthur proves to be quiet factually because in fact, 5,500 warriors were taken to Britannica Briton to serve the Romans as mercenaries for 15-year periods. Arthur was a real person by the Roman name Lucius Arturios Castus, living in the 2nd century AD not the 4th AD. The year of the Roman evacuation of Briton 467AD is the correct date. This real historical figure could have been the foundation for the legend that appeared around the 11th-14th England resulting in the Arthurian Legend. So are the names of the knights of the Round Table. In fact, the 2006 film "Tristan and Isolde" is based off Medieval Arthurian Legend Good movie by the way, if you like Tristan. In fact, if you do not mind research you will discover that there were more than 120, knights of the round table.

In the 4th century they pushed west by the invading Goths and later by the Huns in the 6th century. Sarmatian history last from 450BC-600AD that is 1,050 years of history. According to the 5th Century AD Historian Herodotus, the Sarmatian women in particular were children of the legendary Amazons.

A Dream

Prologue to Chapter one

462 AD, Southern Gaulia

Verberia looked up from the mountaintop, seeing the magnificence of the city above. Suspended in midair among the white clouds of the heavens, from Verberia's vantage point, she could see the foundations of the city made of the clearest diamond, inlaid with intricate patterns of silver. Swirling in a dizzying pattern of absolutely no order…

The rest of the city was hidden from view, the clouds immovable as ever… However, what was above was as familiar as the features of owns face, to her. For it was home… The walls surrounding the great city were made of the finest purple topaz furnished with Gates made of platinum and steel acting as great guardians to the city. Verberia's eye traveled up the battlements of the four towers at each corner of the great wall, acting as watchtowers to any approaching trouble. Above the soaring walls, gleamed the city itself…

Carved from white limestone, decorated with gleaming statues, precious gems, splendid metals and intricately designed facades of never ending beauty. Towers, great halls, temples, palaces, places of wisdom, gardens, workhouses and fields all dwelt within the walls of the great city Ephraim hovering over the Mountain of Light… From the garden of creation in the center of the city flowed the River of Memories, befitting just that purpose of which it was named…

From there it broke off into many smaller rivers weaving each one its way thru the ancient city, cascading down every circular level of the city… Each one larger than the one above it. Until each found its way to the great wall, only to cascade thru a hidden void leading down thru the foundation and plunging thru open air and into the Lake of Nadia…

Raising her hand to her forehead Verberia say the ferry master make his way out from the Northern gate… Passing the last stretches of the gates the sailboat opened canvas… Revealing great folds of white cloth, it gently lifted into the air riding with very gale of wind sent its way. The sailboat rested gently on the smooth mountaintop, Verberia moved toward the boat and up the lowered gangplank… The ferry master nodded a timid hello, only to open canvas and again, steering the ruder back toward the city…

Waiting at the Northern gate was an assembly of court officials, handmaids, ladies-in-waiting and family. Verberia bowed to all in assembly and her action was mirrored back to her in a timely manner. Once introductions and greetings were made Lerina dashed over…

"Did you miss your only sister…? Or were you so enthralled and intent on not killing the Romans did you have not have time to think of me…?" Lerina snickered…

"Both." Responded Verberia. I looked up to the right of me to find the library of scrolls, the meetinghouse of the Elders, the temple of Mother Earth and the museums to the treasures of civilizations past and now long forgotten. A treasure trove of the history of humankind I thought.

"Verberia, so what was Rome like?" Questioned Lerina.

"Well there was not much to see, a large village really. Upon a hill, maybe a thousand inhabitants but no more. They live in mere huts and have they a few stone altars to their gods. They say they are refuges from the city of Troy, across the Aegean. They pleaded for peace between our people, land, security and privacy to live out their lives… It seems that we have quite a reputation among the Grecian lands as great warriors and they seem to fear us." Reported Verberia.

"Why dear sister, do think they saw the severed heads covering the shore?"

"Yes I do." Responded Verberia.

"Good, then they know what happens to those that do not have an invitation…" Jested Lerina.

I woke up with a start, my body quivering as if it were cold. My face sheen with sweet, the dream felt so real. My hand went to me heart; I could still feel where the swords sharp edge had pierced my skin. The scar still visible even after centuries of healing…

I had received it the day Rome decided to invade my homeland and there I was defending it on the battlefield. I sought out their commander, Julius Caesar with my bow and quiver ready at my side. When I found him, I peered into his heart and saw that it was not his time to leave this realm and venture into the land of the dead. That second of hesitation earned me the blue scar I now have; it throbbed in pain as I thought of what happened next… Defeat after defeat Gallia slowly was conquered, the hand of Romans soon murdered Julius Caesar, but his family line lived on… They enslaved our people wishing to break our iron will, when we did not yield to them, they opted to destroy our world…

Hence began the years of bloodshed and carnage… The Druids the priestly ruling classes of these lands were hunted down until only a few remained… History became myth; myth became legend until our city passed out of all memory. Without the faith of the peoples are city in the sky ceased to exist. It plummeted to the ground in one sudden moment and crumbled…and so now, we live in the mere ruins of a once great and lustrous city.

"Oh, how I wish we had destroyed them when they were just in their infancy, oh how I wish…" I muttered to myself, with hands clenched.

My thoughts and regrets were irrupted by a knock at the door…

"You may come in." I answered, sweeping the covers off and making for the balcony over-looking the city. My people were living in a dying city at the brink of extinction.

"My Lady." Intoned Nauda my handmaid obediently…

"Yes Nauda… I asked quietly… Wait is it?" I looked over my shoulder to the bowing maid.

"My Lady, you have a meeting with the Elders we must prepare."

"Nauda, does black sound good to you." Verberia asked.

"Yes my lady, proper indeed."

"Alright then, black it is." Verberia stated.

The dress was form fitting until the knees were it flowed to ground it gentle folds. It had no sleeves the weather was still warm this time of year. And from the back of the dress, a long train of black air-descant material poured down the dress and onto the floor. Along the sides gleamed the many diamonds encrusted into the black velvet, creating a mirage of color around the room. Verberia turned into the mirror examining her image…

Her white skin glowed very brightly under the dark material. While her black hair framed a young yet troubled face. Verberia started making her way towards the Palace of Time in which the Elders lived and operated. Twelve there were, the last of the druids, ancient priests and priestess of the land.

This place was home to a world that was dying, a time that now, had been long forgotten… The walls where covered with descriptions of past ages, cracked liked the weathered face of an old sailor.

Moss and ivy had taken over vast swaths of wall, the ancient ruins now consumed. Approaching the meetinghouse, she lowered her head in respect and awe.

Their stood the great guards of this sacred place never moving. They opened the doors to reveal a circular structure made of brimstone.

Looking down I saw a floor decorated with the constellations of the celestial heavens. Twelve chairs of brimstone, eight priests and three priestess stared back at me. All timeless even though each of a great age.

"We summon you Verberia here today to send you on a journey, a journey through time itself." Announced Ambiorix, the prophet.

"This journey will take you far from these lands and test your powers of reason like they have never been before." Stated Cumhal, the reasonable.

"You will be no diplomat, messenger, adviser nor warrior but all of those things… times are ever changing and new powers are rising. One you shall save from the clutches of the enemy and watch it grow." Advised Mairne, the motherly.

"We have no choice and this you already know, you have foreseen it yourself. Rome will fall but with it will come the consequences of centuries of neglect… The world shall fall into darkness." Whispered Diviclacus the wise.

"Verberia you must save the world… From itself, this is your task, your test and final obstacle." Consulted Crixus the honest hearted.

"Verberia…" They whispered jointly, 'You shall go to Briton…"

They stood up, their white flowing robes reaching the celestial floor… Thoughtful eyes piercing thru the soul…

"Where is the Lord Merlin the powerful?" Asked Verberia.

"Waiting for you." Stated Cingetorix the father of warriors.

"Hast must be made my child and with that we say goodbye for how long we do not know but time will not stop you as it does not bother any of our kind, my child…" Cingetorix said warmly.

"You are Reith dead nor living alone but caught between the two worlds, time has stopped for us but for how long we do not… Be warned do not let any one steal your heart my child because once something is broken it cannot always be easily mended… For we are not like others, you shall feel the pain, sorrow and anger of those around you. Do not give notice to their feelings because if you do you will find it hard to distinguish between the two." Warned Cingetorix.

With a swift flick of his wrist, we were standing next to the River of Memories spurting up from the ground below.

"You shall, serve under Arthur Castus… Commander of the legendary Sarmatian knights, you shall become one of them; earn their respect, trust and loyalty…" Informed Cingetorix.

"A Roman." I answer in disbelief.

Before anything, more could be said he removed from his blue cascading robes a necklace…

"Here I give you the Star of Elvira, it will give you comfort when the protection and light of this city can now longer be felt. Remember do not let yourself fall in into the darkness for there is no return from it." Verberia placed the star of Elvira around her neck, feeling the light. He cupped her chin and gave her a warm embrace…

"All shall be explained in due time, my granddaughter, and look for sign of his presence." Cingetorix, said then waved a goodbye.

The 11 Elders began to chant and the air hummed with released energy… the chanting went faster and faster until stone slabs appeared and began to whip around me until they went so fast I saw the world I was about to enter. Knowing what to do I step into the image before me …

And was there… In Briton, I assumed on lonely road in the middle of an ancient forest, gnarled with age and decay… I stood silent waiting for a sign when I heard hooves pounding on the forest floor, coming closer and closer… My clothing had changed, I wore a black cape, leather tunic, fish scaled armored bodice, riding gloves, knee high leather boots with gray trousers and a purple stash around my waist. Fabian moved to the right of me, my loyal friend and horse. I grasped my ivory bow and red quivered feathered arrows… _Tristan_ the trees whispered, they told me… I lowered my bow… waiting… _A Sarmatian knight is he, Arthur's own scout… The shadow in the night… The whisper in leaves…_ _Killer of men… Murderer of light_…

I listened some more as they told me their gossip, absorbing the information… _He is here_, they whispered… I looked up, an arrow drawn at my heart… A shadow indeed I thought… Under his watchful eye, I mounted Fabian… _Dangerous his_ _he_, they whispered. Thus, I rode off with the dark knight escorting me back to the wall, to Arthur and to the journey ahead…

7


	2. Chapter 4

Manipulation for Information **Introduction to Verberia **

** Chapter One**

** The Gaulish Lady from across the Channel **

** 462AD, Hadrian's Wall Britannica**

**Five years before the movie starts**

Dagonet placed his hand softly on the shoulder of Ancasta, his wife… Taking his hand off Ancasta's shoulder, he stroked Cerberus's soft coat, Ancasta's wolf and constant companion.

He looked up at the sound of Ancasta laughing at the nearby Lancelot who had once again insulted Verona and had earned himself a slap upside the head… He tried to take her into his arms but she gave him a hard elbow to the chest.

Taking a step forward Bors announced; "Go find your own wench, you always manage to do that anyway." Lancelot pulled out his two Roman short swords, as if to challenge Bors. Lancelot and Bors both staring each other down until neither could contain their laughter anymore, everyone erupted into hysterics.

Verberia looked at her companions in envy, for she knew that she would never have the love that they shared. Most nights she just ignored the couple's merriment, but tonight was different… The month's events had rattled and awoken the monster holding her heart uncompassionatly.

And there the lady stands Verberia, always deathly serene, has if sin has never come her way. To calm, that day she first came she slay all that were in her path… No emotion, they came yelling there battle cry and fell silent, dead by her feet. As terrorizing, as it was I never once even say her sword touch the flesh of her enemy, even the blood from the wounds drew slowly from them…

Verberia stood under the cover of darkness…

I see examining us from a far but not joining in, Dagonet thought… She is inhumanly beautiful yet neither Lancelot, nor any of the other knights made any moves toward her, they fear her and with good reason, for the darkness and light are in constant battle around her…

"Staring into your ale again I see Dag, am I really that boring that you look to the drink for conversation?" Gawain mocked…

Her eyes stung with a lifetime of un-cried tears… Her stomach revolted in anger at the newfound swirl of emotion. Burning bile of acidic nature rose up in her throat… She bitterly swallowed the contents now filling her mouth…

Ribs cracked, squeezing in anguish from hypertension… Ragged breaths of stale air were released from flaring nostrils… Her body shock and swayed as if it had been pitched into a deadly fever of unforgiving waves…

Her hands began to bleed from the grip of razor sharp nails piercing soft skin. Joints locked in bone breaking pain… Temples pulsed as if the rage and suffering of her people filled her mind… Screeching a bloodthirsty hiss, calling for vengeance…

Eyes burned from too many sleepless and troubled days… Her young body seemed old in an instance…

Repulsed at her current mental state… Jealous at the world and the cruel trick that fate had played on her… Caused the world to stop, a moment of reflection… She had been so close… The empty void of regret was replaced with the harsh reality of the world around her… The smallest of details were revealed to her, the truth…

"This gift." She sneered, under her breath… "Rather curse."

Haunting every waking hour of every day spent since she could remember… Never did she not know the future… Nor did it have the decumbency to show her the future that she was destined to lead… Confidence, compassion, love all denied to her… What joy it would bring if I could just be like everyone else…

Choking back vomit that seemed all too eager to come…Angered by the pathetic plea of mercy on her own fate… She left, swallowing her pride and resentment for life as she went…

Dagonet's chest heaved with a booming laugh, getting up from the table they sit at…

I get up to leave only to see Verberia gracefully move from her spot under the shelter of the roof and towards her quarters. Her small boots barely touching the ground, I try to get her attention but she does not see me… I turn to my wife "Good night…" I saw quietly to Ancasta, lightly planting a kiss on her forehead.

Dodging unseen assassins and dangers, lurking in the stone 1oppidum around her… Hiding her face in shame… Black shards of hair covering her face like a broken mirror…

Her, white skin shining brighter than the Moon… Eyes staring, as though thru the soul… Made from volcanic rock, twinkling with frayed pieces of uncut diamond… Dark, urethral, ancient, timeless, dark like a smooth stone of obsidian, and above all, beautiful…

Reaching out with a dead hand she opened the heavy, weathered wooden door leading into her lodging… reaching her room…

"Crack" Went her head hitting the stall, echoing thru the empty halls…

Head now throbbing in a dizzying pain she sank to the cold stone floor in a pile of broken and exhausted limbs… Her stare blank, the familiar spark waning… Shivering in her own sweat, convulsing in the horrors hidden in the recesses of her mind…

Chest heaving, with every labored breath she took, she pulling herself up with some reserve of will not know to her, she rose. Planting both feet on the floor… Pushing on, when the very thing she wanted to do was collapsed onto the floor in hopes that it would swallow her up and bring her peace… However, that very same will wanted needed to run and find refuge in what… Well, that was not known… Not even to her…

Again, out among the peoples of the street brought an onslaught of loud and disorienting sounds. Closing her eyes, she let her feet lead the way among the vast crowds of Romans and Britons alike. Drifting thru them as if a ghost, graceful quiet steps rocked her world…

A single tendril of hair interrupted the mechanic features of her face, all centered around alien eyes of great fascination. Her limbs hanged off her frame in perfect chaos, swaying to some elegant dance.

Her black clock billowed out behind her, without the assistance of any wind. An invisible barrier was made between this world of fact and fiction and the fortified defenses surrounding the psyche of her world. Her lips moved, talking to someone but no one at the same time… None questioned this strange scene because none saw her pass; her presence was not notice among any… That is the way she wanted it to stay…

Her back ached as if she were carrying all her sins… Those being the lives she had taken so entreatingly… The stables approached, seeming like the savior she had been waiting for… The stone structure was immense in size but nonetheless comforting. Her hair and skin where moist from the great mist covering the ground and the black and silver eye makeup that she had put on in earnest had begun to bleed… Creating even larger shadows under her eyes, adding a very demonic edge to the already fierce and unforgiving warriors face…

Adorning her head, she covered it with a hood, and around her neck a scarf of dark purple… Removing a dagger from her armored bodice, she cut the soft skin right across her palm…

Regaining focus, she stumbled full force into a near by wall and right back into full control… The smell of her own blood sent quivers up her spine, for she had almost fallen into the black void, always inviting, but always dangerous… She chastised herself for letting go and went strait to the stall looking for the comfort of her loyal friend Fabian.

A great warhorse, black with a single white star in the middle of his forehead… Softly caressing his head, her fingers lingering over the white star and down his mane. Letting her fingers interweave there way thru the satiny locks of hair. Fabian pushed his head between her arms, resting on her shoulder. Slowly relaxing under the loving care of Verberia. Letting out a slow breath of air the horse raised his head and looked deep into her eyes.

Seeing the emptiness that lay within, he wrapped his neck around her head…

I knew she would come tonight… She had come to gaze at the world that she once had gazed from…Oh, ya, ya right there, ow…

Carrots, oh you know me too well, my Lady…Fabian responded…

"Come now, Fabian… We must be on our way." Replied Verberia.

"Yes, my lady" Fabian replied with a snort.

Mounting with the greatest of ease Verberia and Fabian made their way out of the stables and toward the pastures. Once past the floods of people Verberia slowly let go of her reins and let Fabian lead her… He always knew where and when to go and how to go…

"My Lady, it had to be done." He said with a snort and two short throaty sounds.

"There was no way around it…"

"I know, but the time is approaching… Soon Arthur will have to know of the purpose for my coming." Said Verberia.

"Yes, the armies of the entire known world prepare for a final war with Rome… And she shall fall." Replied Fabian

"Yes she shall, I have watched enough of her." Whispered Verberia.

Fabian then broke out into a full canter, lifting his head up in joy and whinnied. Rome would fall and just maybe with the help of the legendary Sarmatian knights, maybe just maybe…

The pastures glowed in the fading sunlight and you could almost see the life emanating from them the vegetation. With the wind in my face, I almost lost all care… Almost, but not completely…

You still saw the destruction that Rome always left in its wake… The land has suffered greatly now the Druids no longer bless the land… Fields have been taken over by marshes and ancient forests cut down to build forts such as the one I live in. I smile as I realize where were going to, the coast…

Amazing it is how death and life can live side by side and still coexist and this is what this land is. It is not wrong to want what is truly yours by birth… This is not Rome just a people and land they which to gain there own ends from… How can we be Barbarians when we find ourselves subjected under a cruel master…?

"But soon they will realize that nothing really changed, we can not be ruled."

Verberia snickered wickedly looking out from under her hair. Verberia sensing something turned quickly in her saddle searching the foliage around her nothing, or something… In the distance, she heard the call of hawk, soaring above the trees searching for its master…

"We shall soon show them, they were ever so wrong…" She said ever so sweetly.

Tristan had been leaving the training grounds when he saw the young women Verberia heading towards the stables he tailed her easily not attracting any suspicion. She went to the stall of her black stead stroking his mane tenderly…

He looked away in disinterest, it would be dark quite soon and he needed to ride out scouting the territory for potential trouble spots west of the wall. Waiting for the women to leave and guarantee his priva- A loud thud was heard against the stall door, moving to a better vantage point Tristan caught a glance of the women holding her wounded hand tenderly and clearly stunned at impact…

To his disbelief blood the color of clear mountain river poured out of her open wound, the deepest, brightest shade of blue. She then saddled quickly and turned east away from the wall Tristan followed a mile behind… Duty could wait this one night…

The ride ended as soon as it had started, walking the last few miles to the coast… Anglers' boats lined the shore, worn and battered from many years of abuse… Hay and mud huts were not far off, looking out into the distance I saw what I was looking for…

There they were proud, rugged and formidable as ever… The white sandstone cliffs… Closing my eyes my hands wandered over the tall beach grass surrounding me. I heard my boots crunch under the dried stems; I felt the sand shift under my feet.

Up and down I went. I picked up the sand cold and moist under my touch, I slowly released it in my hand, watching it fall to the ground. Wiping the rest on the folds of my leather tunic flowing in the wind just below my knee.

The suns last rays danced just above the horizon creating a mirage of color across the waters. I led Fabian to the cliffs tying him to a nearby tree. Her sense came alive someone was here, 250 yards away was tied a familiar horse. Then above her head came the screech of a hawk.

Opening her saddlebags, she took out a yellow apple. She had prepared for this… When wandering in the woods a few times did she spot Tristan… She always headed her way, letting him be… After all, he was part of the problem… She could feel his eyes on her many times, and many times did she stare back... Her stare even sent him looking away…

If she was right, Tristan had been tracking her all the way here… He suddenly appeared from the trees, walking into a field of red poppies. His hawk swooping down onto his waiting gloved arm.

"Tristan." I announced my presence.

"Verberia." He responded, without turning his head but nodding my greeting.

Leaning over the cliff edge, I dared a glance down, 150 feet, raging sea and jagged rocks awaited me if I jumped. So many times had I thought about simply letting go and enjoying the short trip down. In fact, sometimes it was hard it pull myself away from the edge, ever so tempting… I knew Tristan was looking but had the modesty to leave me alone.

She drew her hand out over the open air, feeling as gravity tried to pull it down. Allowing the wind to move it up and down. Trying to move with it and feel it as it moved thru her fingers, trying to grasp it.

Her purple scarf whipped frantically around her, dancing with every gale. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on relaxing every muscle and bone letting them sway, as they wanted.

Clearing her mind of all thought she concentrated on the sound of the ocean only. Hearing the roar that it made when it came in contact with rocks below… The rich smell of salt and seaweed. The moisture that dampened everything… The crickets, the rustle of the grasses and the few squawks of seagulls in the distance.

Opening her eyes, she turned seeing Tristan sitting on a near by rock facing the opposite direction… Over his shoulder, she could see a path leading down to an outcrop of stone. Striding quietly past Tristan she threw the yellow apple over her shoulder, which he quickly snatched out of the air.

Tristan looking up saw her gracefully climbing the sheer Cliffside. He got up peering down the dangerous path as she settled on a small ridge in the stone. His confidence faded as he looked for another way down… How unusual he thought, his cold composure slightly interrupted…

"Disturbing indeed." He said not even above a whisper, for this did not sit well with Tristan in fact it made him dangerously curious.

Verberia bounded up the outcrop with ease and stood looking out at the sea. Tristan went off to wander only to return, finding a safer way down the cliff side. 100 feet Tristan made his way down, hugging the rock at all times.

She had made it seem so effortless when she had climbed down. Tristan had been cautious of the women ever since she had appeared. Her presence made him uneasy… He could sense ancient blood in her, for she had successfully alluded him many times. It was sheer happen stance that he had seen her leaving the wall.

Thinking of this reminded Tristan of the day she first appeared, standing in the middle of the road, he back from scouting for Arthur. Completely silent, a shadow and yet he knew she was the one everyone had been talking about. Dropping the last few feet onto the ledge, he looked down. Now the sea was very close. Waves smashed against the rock coming very close to there spot. He looked over to Verbeia her stare was far off, distance. She turned looking rather curious;

"What took you so long?' She asked rather mockingly.

He merely shook his head in disbelief, he knew too little for a person that knew too much about him… This continued for quite some time, Tristan slowly eating his apple with a dagger and Verberia staring out to sea.

Tristan every so carefully peered threw the corner of his eye covered by the pieces of medium brown hair.

"Aorsi?" She questioned him…

Tristan felt the urge to kill well up in his heart. His left hand flinched will the other quietly clutched his weapon along his girdle belt. He closed his eyes, trying to release the rabid energy now pumping thru his body without taking her down in one deadly stroke. He paused should he respond, yes… She obviously already knew, but how… She could not be Sarmatian, could she…? She had of yet to tell the knights where she was from… Though they knew, she was not Roman…

"Yes…" He answered coldly.

So my trick has worked, I thought, snickering inwardly. For in truth I had spoken on assumption, not fully confident of what I was saying. Nonetheless, my trick had worked manipulation for information…

Tristan sensing her triumph decided to turn the tables…

"Ride with me…" He snarled…

He looked up from his dark brown riding boats, staring thru her not at her, tossing the last of his apple over the side of the cliff… Verberia did not respond, fully shocked at what he had just asked. Tristan turned, hair whipping in his face making the dangerous climb upwards again…

Once upon solid ground he casually walked over to his horse and mounted… With his hand out stretched like a waiting limb, he whistled three times for his hawk and eyes in the sky…

Tamesis… Soaring down at amazing precision, she landed obediently on his forearm nibbling on some hidden treat in his closed hand.

Taking a chance Verberia reluctantly made her way up the Cliffside and debating and arguing with herself all the way up. Hearing him call for his hawk, she abounded up the rest of the remaining Cliffside. Stalking over to Fabian and impatiently wriggling around in her saddle, waiting for him to take the lead… Tristan slowly made his way thru the red poppies field and into the forest, which he had first appeared from…

We dodged past trees and overhanging branches, I inhaled the rich and potent smell of soil, bark and leaves. The sun had set and I could barely see my hands holding the reins before me. Nevertheless, there ahead of me was Tristan, weaving onto a new path as if the road were wide and strait and the way bright with the sun's rays.

His keen eyesight, amazing feats with the bow and deadly swordsmanship had earned him much fear and respect among his fellow knights. No one was more eluding and dangerous than the quiet Sarmatian scout.

For all scouts know that the worst fate awaits them if they are caught and so this molded Tristan into a deadly killer. When a scout you are all alone, feeling the wind in your hair and freedom just within grasp… However, that solitude comes with a price, who will rescue the fallen scout, no one… For he is completely alone, completely and utterly alone…

After an hour,'s hard ride we arrived atop the hill overlooking the fort and accompanying wall… There before us lay the burial mounds of the fallen knights of centuries old.

"Your people have shed their blood for cause not their own but one that they are forced to serve. I can understand your discontent for your own existence when you are forced to serve a cause not of your choosing, not caring wither you live or die… You utterly do not care… For you have no real purpose…" Verberia explained.

"I am killer it's my nature…" Tristan sneered. Raising his right eyebrow in cruel contempt.

Verberia seeing the look being given to her turned in her saddle and looked directly into his eyes. Challenging that stare that sent most men fleeing and begging for their lives: She stared at him, simply stared but her eyes…

Oh those eyes, Tristan thought were like a looking into a black empty void, deprived of all human emotion. Not even cruelty, anger, rage was found in them they simply sucked the soul of all life… Reflecting back the image of its beholder and their sad fate… and in those eyes Tristan saw his future, but like everything, nothing is certain…

Verberia leaned over in her saddle still entrancing his gave, she seductively whispered in his ear, ever so slightly brushing his hair with her nose; " Darling…nothing is for certain, all you have to do is will it to change…" She let the words dance in the air watching his expression thru the corner of her eye.

She swept her pointer finger over one of his tattoos occupying his cheek… Looking down she released him from his spell… She started her way toward the wall the moon was now directly above them, her skin began to glow… Throwing her hood over her head once…

In one swift movement, Verberia dug her heels into Fabian sides… If she wanted to come out tomorrow, she had better fix her glamour the cut on the palm of her had begun to peel and cracked… Revealing the translucent skin beneath that was glowing inhumanly…

Daring one last glance over her shoulder there stood the mounted Tristan just as she had left him, as if frozen into that pose forever…

Verberia started giggling wildly at a joke only she knew, in-between demonic and perfectly innocent giggles of nothing less than perfect insanity she sang "Good night Tristan, darling." In the most patronizing of tones…

Tristan had no idea how long he had been staring into those eyes, for they seemed to contain the heavens within them… A few seconds in our time felt like eons of time, for it became meaningless to him… He found this new universe in the right hand corner of her dark wise eye. And in them, he found what he was looking for…

Tristan suddenly snapped out of his gaze, looking around finding himself still at the cemetery… Everything looked dull and putrid… Nothing could compare to her gaze it was simply beyond words…

But contrary to your belief my dear reader Tristan did not back away in fear but rather raced to the wall finding himself surprisingly energized and determined to catch his prey at all cost…He had now been introduced to her world and now he had a few questions of his own, to ask her…

1 Oppidum: Fortified city, usually referring to a hilltop, mountainside, cliff or any other kind of natural boundary or obstacle Gaulish, modern day French.

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